


The happy couple

by ainsel, Frankenskr, IANP



Category: Historical RPF, The Man Who Knew Infinity|知无涯者
Genre: Afterlife, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainsel/pseuds/ainsel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankenskr/pseuds/Frankenskr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IANP/pseuds/IANP
Summary: Afterlife.Elysium.Side AAs an atheist, what these words mean to Hardy? How he debate about them? What if he dies and meets someone again? What will he react?Side BCorrespond to Side A. Hardy has not be convinced by the concept of afterlife. He defines “Exist”,” Elysium” as a mathematician.





	1. Side A

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Happy Couple](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858766) by [ainsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainsel/pseuds/ainsel). 



> Very gratitude to @Frankenskr as proof-reader of chapter 1!!!!!
> 
> And Deeply praise to @IANP as translator of chapter2（she is amazing!!!!!）
> 
> Congratulation to the movie release！  
> I love the biography which the movie adapted by the same name.   
> About the character pairing:  
> Hardy called the collaboration with Ramanujan as "The one romantic incident in my life." Late in the same lecture, He said after (16 years since the day Ramanujan dies) he can finally treat the topic of Ramanujan with more dispassionately. He blamed himself for the passion he expressed about Ramanujan 16 years ago ”quite ridiculous sentimentalism ”.  
> I felt from every word in this lecture that Hardy just could not be dispassionate as he wish. He said:”For myself, I liked and admired him (Ramanujan) enough to wish to be a rationalist about him.” He failed for his affection. That is what the character pairing attracts me. Wish you can love it  
> Sorry for my bad English.

Through all eternity to prove/Thy nature, and thy name is LOVE.

Strictly speaking, Hardy had never conceived of the scene he meet Ramanujan again.

Totally not, after hearing his death.

Before that, merely not.

Well, Hardy couldn’t sit in his room, waiting for the daily knock on 9.am as always. First, Ramanujan stopped to knock since he fell in ill in 1917; second, soon after Ramanujan’s leave, Hardy himself gave up that room in Trinity College, and came to Oxford.

However, he did conceive much, until that one line telegram come, much enough to make him to have a dream in the night of 4.26. Of course there is a surprising coincidence with Ramanujan’s death. But it is nonsense to call that by telepathy. In fact, since he received Ramanujan’s letter in February, he thought of it practically every moment. All those formulas in letter scattered in his dream, with the voice of Ramanujan explaining them, sometimes. The dream in 4.26 is nothing but the end of the series of dreams. The reason why those dreams were nevermore appearing was plain, nothing supernatural. Hardy received the telegram the day after. Henceforward, neither Ramanujan’s writing formulas nor vaguely ghost invaded his restless sleep.

The dream is simple. He saw Ramanujan, a forever happy health innocent Ramanujan, same as their first meet. In dream, He deemed Ramanujan have made a recovery, and visit England in vacation. He had so much confidence in this assumption that never asked Ramanujan.

Surely, the one topic they discussed and would discuss is mathematics. They consumed scratch paper rapidly, explained, argued and debated excitedly. For once, Ramanujan was stumped by his question, said he need few moment to answer.

The moment lasted too long, long enough to made Hardy’s mind drifted away from the mocked-θ function they discussing; long enough to taken his eyes left the scratch paper they written formulas, lingered on Ramanujan; long enough to let him ask bluntly: “How are you doing at India？”

Through window frame, the afternoon sunshine slid into the room, lighten Ramanujan’s contemplated head, onto the floor as a clear-cut silhouette in bright parallelogram.

Such a fine weather, suit to play cricket. Hardy fancied casually. But he preferred to sit here. Rarely sunny day is charming, but not enough to seduce him leave Ramanujan, leave the amazing mathematic world Ramanujan exhibit to him.

Nothing can make me give up such time, Hardy thought, the time shared by no-one but us and mathematics, the time will never stop as long as we want. Nobody can apart us from the fantastic and wonderful mathematic world.

Like those days Ramanujan had just arrived England, his first thing to do is walk 20 min to cross Neville’s Court every day, then bring Ramanujan and his notebook, dispute in every hole and corner of Trinity College, find books and discuss at corner no one shows any interest in Library, with uncountable calculations, interpretation, demonstration and indoctrination for each other. At present, they merely continue their habitual communication of thought as always.

It is so natural to discuss mathematics with Ramanujan, a routine like breath or heartbeat, the end of it is unimaginable. One easy to take for it can ever last to eternity.

Eternity.

He vaguely remembered a dispute, a dispute with who?

The room that afternoon, with bright sunshine,faded into darkness along with Ramanujan's figure. Hardy heard himself speaking resolute and decisive:”What is eternity? A word hard to define, means infinity time. And infinity has no exact meaning. We can say no more than that for any giving number, a number larger than it can always be found, thus infinity number did exist. But I think, maybe we can give a proper estimation for eternity, that is how long your theory last in this world.”

And then another voice appeared, with a familiar accent. but he never heard the voice speak in such undisputed tone:”I can’t agree with your opinion. Like eternity, immortality, gods, infinity is true. Zero times infinity can produce any finite value. The instant times eternity gives all reality. That is the origin of creation.”

“How ridiculous.”Hardy was going to contradict but the dream faded.

Longer than he have expected, the path to death finally come to the end. He greets the belated death dryly. In the final analysis, it is just an inevitable thing to happen, no need to fear, no need to expect. After death, nothing.  
  
the everlasting dream crawls upon his eyes. At this time, he knows nothing about the dream he will dream.  
  
At first, immense mist envelop his sight. He sees nothing.  
  
He nearly has a headache------if dead people can still have headaches--- what happened is totally out of his expectation. Why his consciousness didn’t fade away with his body? What place is it------or is it a real”place”? Is it so-called afterlife? Is it a world of pure metaphysic or physical world? If the gospel which mother used to scare him and Gertrude be good children makes any sense------hardy never believes it since 7-----then did the difference of heaven and hell exist here? Is he alone? Or is anyone else here?  
  
There is no need to ask the final question.  
  
A blurry figure slowly emerge from the mist  
  
The one in front of him seems very ill, more than the photograph Chandrasekhar took back-----the photo is on the wall of his room now. This is the first idea come to him.  
  
“Are you in good health?” After he blurt these words out, he realize how ridiculous it sound.  
  
“Frankly speaking, I’m not sure. Considering my body has been burned to ash and scattered in the Ganges River, I think it is not “health” in general definition. However, I supposed you would strafe me with a dozen mathematic questions once you start to talk. My estimation appears with error.”  
  
“Nothing worse than your estimation to prime number less than X.”Hardy unconsciously counters. 30 years ago, he was always bad at daily greeting and conventional talk, jumped to mathematic question every time when he knocked ward door of Ramanujan open. So this time he remembers to care for physical condition, did make process.  
  
“Indeed. Sorry for never find a better approximate formula.” Ramanujan looks down with a little despondent. Hardy nearly answers it’s not your fault, and talk about the lasts developments of prime number theory naturally. Finally, he is apprehensive of one thing clearly.  
  
HE IS TALKING WITH RAMANUJAN.  
  
Ramanujan. His….what? His… discovery? His… romantic incident? His…pitiful friend?  
  
For himself, the news of Ramanujan’s death evoked not only unexpected heartache, but also confusion and helpless sense of loss. He didn’t know exactly what he lost, never fully understand it until now. But one thing is sure, that must be the most precious thing he had lost.  
  
He was deemed that the sense of loss is irretrievable. Everything on earth can’t console such bitter loss. The reunion, is impossible, totally impossible, imagination of it is ridiculous enough.  
  
BUT HE IS TALKING WITH RAMANUJAN.  
  
Ramanujan look at him with the eyes which still have the same bright, absorption and fever as his memory. They stand close, tend to touch.  
  
Hardy uplift his hand which is trembling  
  
It can’t be true, he thought, whereafter he finds he has spoke it out. But the voice sounds so blank and remote, can’t even evoke any echo in the immense white mist.  
  
“It is true” Ramanujan answer him clear and calm,”I am here.”  
  
In the verge of hysterics, he catches Ramanujan’s hand. Warm sense of touch, like truth. Is it true?  
  
“Prove it to me.” He thinks of nothing but these words.  
  
“Sorry, you know I am never good at proof. ” Ramanujan smiles with apology. ”But you said, you’re willing to believe my assertion. I can do nothing but make a simple statement: We are all dead and gone. And maybe we can call the place we stay now as paradise.”  
  
“Retrospect of past, your assertions are not all right. And willing to believe is not the same things as undoubtedly believing.” The words he says are more acute than his intention. He needs to compel Ramanujan gives a proof or some sort of truth. Otherwise, rational part of him can’t be convinced and relieved.  
  
He doesn’t get the proof he wants  
  
But he gets a hug.  
  
It is not an enough replacement. He tells himself soberly  
  
“I am really sorry that I can’t persuade you it is paradise here.”Ramanujan whispers in his ear. “But I will stay here”  
  
“That is enough.” He hears himself answer, and embraces Ramanujan more tightly.


	2. Side B

Man weeps not so for aught that's perishable. ——《Don Carols》

It’s not on me, Hardy thought. At that moment, he was just staring at the photo on the desk. Ramanujan looked at him with sorrows, light of genius twinkled in such pair of bright eyes.

Though such light would not shine for him, no more. 

Hardy had no right to complain about it, as years of the spirits source given by Ramanujan, the length of time and varieties of inspirations of mathematical concepts, which was enough or even too much for any other Mathematicians. 

While accepting the photo sent by Q, he did a thing totally reasonable. He looked at the photo, imagined that his bright-eyes friend sat by him as if time of decades fled to nothingness. Then, in such a high spirit he buried in writing mathematical works. After all, it was about how to prove the theorems left by Ramanujan. To imagine originator who found them stating the way how he did it maybe would help more or less. Nevertheless, it could not depend on Ramanujan himself to give a certificate that speaked of. 

In the beginning it worked, which made his work time beyond the limit of four hours. Imagining that Ramanujan was looking at him was enough for him to keep his minds clear. He enjoyed himself to follow Ramanujan’s steps-how amazing the ways Ramanujan used to prove. Even if some of them were proved in much easier ways, he still kept his curiosities on how Ramanujan’s original mind, the little seed that had just sprouted, became a mighty tree like these. 

It didn’t work. He kept on modifying scripts, but no more new ideas came up. He lost his creativities so completely that even the bright eyes could not light them up. 

Gradually, he felt he couldn’t follow Ramanujan. In a way, this is the second time, the time he is completely at a loss. 

‘I have already been somehow non-existent. ’Putting down the pen, he franked to the photo softly. 

To talk with the dead is the first symbol to be mad. Hardy thought of this sentence sometimes, but never got worried about it. In the past, he defended himself like this: if the imaginary chats are benefit to come up with the mathematic concepts, then even being mad is totally justice. In the present, it sounds nonsense. But imaginary chatting became an unchangeable habit. Of course, there was no risk, as Hardy was famous of his strong logicality, he knew that the man in photo would not open his mouth, and all the answer he got could only came from his heart. 

‘Hilbert-I had never got the chance to introduce him to you-had said, the time a mathematician lost his creativities is the time he is non-existent. Living and being non-existent, so fantastic a situation. Can you get me?’

‘None at all. ’Ramanujan said softly. 

He didn't get surprised to that. ‘Indeed, you have no reason to understand. You will still exist until the real death come, as blooming flowers that knocked down by a storm all of a sudden, to what droop so call has only hazy impression. Both your body and creativities get lost at the same time. Maybe that is better, much better than me. ’

The words came out of mouth was more bitter than what he supposed to mean. It shouldn’t like this, he didn’t mean to complain. At least, he was not to complain about he couldn’t catch up with Ramanujan’s fantastic minds. 

Ramanujan might haven’t notice the bitter in his voice. ‘I’m not sure to which way to end is better. I get more interested in what will be left when everything is over. The world that bodies are no longer existent, some sorts of paradise or the forever happiness. ’

Hardy hesitated for a while. ‘There is no argument to argue that there is a world after death, while the concept of paradise is too complex. As if the question transforms to what thing will not be going while the death is coming, I would make no bones about it: the true wisdom of ration. 317 is a prime number, and this proposition is right whether you and me exist or not, or the universe exist or not. To explain my words more clearly, it is necessary to mention a figure of speech from Mr. Erdös who believed that there is a book which filled with all the important and beautiful mathematical formulas. And what this book concludes is what I define as immortality. As if there is one or two formulas named after us, I would get satisfied. ’

‘But the book of immortality prepares no place for ordinary people. ’ suggested Ramanujan clearly. 

‘You’re right. Then, imaging that we read this book together. At the beginning, I turn pages and explain them for you, as every time studying the basic part we begin with. Gradually, it turns to the part you’re familiar with, you read faster and faster, much faster than me. Till the end, I get lost completely, so the book is on your hand. While there is something in the part where I can still understand, there is just one equation which we are both familiar with, I touch your hand gently and then you smile at me within a glimpse, that’s enough. I will ask for no more. ’

‘If it is only ration that belongs to immortality, if only immortality means something, then why do you still put this photo on the table? Why?’

‘κι' όποιον η ψυχή θελήση η δική μου, θα διαλέξω’The words from the Greek operate that read at school suddenly crowded out of his mouth. He didn’t realize until he finished his words, what Ramanujan meant was probably the poster of Lenin which covered about half of the wall. 

He closed his eyes and began to imagine what a gentle and confusing smile will appear on his face after hearing this. In the past, whenever he referred to any topics beyond Mathematic by chance, such a smile would always show on his face. So he knew that he should turn the topic back to Mathematic, or give detail explanation: this sentence comes from Frogs written by Aristophanes, and its meaning is……

He opened his eyes, but photo would not smile at him. 

‘I'll choose the man in whom my soul delights. ’He repeated it in English. ‘But this will not affect anything. As it is surly to have a preference, it rather needs to be analyzed. Favorite is based on personal emotion. After all, we are mathematician. The only statement that can use to judge us is the achievements we have made, not the personal emotions. All hobbies are to vanish some days, comparing with immortalities, immaterialities can be ignored. ’

‘So for now, the moment you no longer exist, are you get free?’It seemed that there was little pity in the voice of Ramanujan. 

‘I can’t tell the differences between now and any other time. ’Answered Hardy firmly. ‘It never changes at any moments you see. ’

‘For the moment you no longer exist, for the moment your personhood survives much longer than the side of you as a mathematician, for the moment immortality is not be with you, for now-are you insist?’

A series of questions fell down in his heart. Emotions don’t belong to immortality, but so does himself, as being something perishable. 

‘In that way, nothing matters. It will be absurd to show mercy to me. ’At least, this sentence is sincere, word by word, with so much scornful self-mockery and icy sarcasm. 

‘Then why do you come? Why do you chat with me?’The expression of Ramanujan on photo seemed to be turning much deeper, though it’s properly an illusion, a trick that played by the light. 

‘As for me, I don’t know. ’Every words seemed so difficultly to talk out. ‘Maybe it is just something ridiculous, something I could not let go, made me can’t move my eyesight off. ’

They both didn’t talk about what it is. It needn’t to be talked. 

‘So for now, do you get free?’The voice of Ramanujan was so careful as if he was afraid of hurting something. 

But there was nothing can be hurt, as for he, for now. None. In spite of answering with all his heart, he had no more choices. 

‘Not for once. I have tried for so many times that from these struggles I understand that I can only get the true peace after my body, soul, and heart are vanished. The emotions which twist me all the time are not as true as immortality that never changes. 

However, just like the worms which born at the dawn and die at the dusk suppose that light could be immortal. With the limit of my life, the emotions itself is as long as the affection of immortality. If there is nothing be left after death, then, treating emotions as immortality leads nothing wrong. 

For now, it is too late to talk about this. Nothing can be changed. 

But so long as I can write on this book, to explain your world, I would have no more require, which is also impossible. ’

So he put down his head to wrote as an end to the talk and began with: In this lecture I propose to speak about some theorems of Ramanujan which have not attracted very much attention, which are, as I said in my opening lecture, ‘inevitably less impressive’ than much of his work, but which are still very interesting and will repay a careful analysis.


End file.
